


I Pretend to be a Writer

by TheJoysOfAMultishipper (Amemah)



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemah/pseuds/TheJoysOfAMultishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you feel like a dominatrix in that coat?</p><p> </p><p>A collection of drabbles from my tumblr</p><p>--- Please check warnings and tags per chapter!</p><p>(Drabbles from http://thejoysofamultishipper.tumblr.com/ )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PoW  (Darcy Lewis & Nick Fury; Kidnapping: Non-Sexual, Non-Threathening Refernces to BDSM)

**Author's Note:**

> ALRIGHT LISTEN UP (God, hate when people say that? Like, it's so aggressive? anyway.)
> 
> So. I've been very ill for the past three years. And sometimes, I'm well enough to write things I actually put a little bit of effort in, and I can be bothered to tag stuff and everything you need to do before posting here.
> 
> But sometimes... That isn't my cup of tea. So I started writing whatever I wanted (which i was already doing, only this time with even less of a care) and posted them on tumblr, because that was easier. 
> 
> But I'm on a high tonight. I've just taken my feeding tube out and I'm ready to grace Ao3 with my unedited, written-in-the-moment-, overdramatic writing I just had to get out. 
> 
> So. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> \---
> 
> Let me know what you think?  
> Hugs!
> 
> Tumblr: http://thejoysofamultishipper.tumblr.com/

 

 

Darcy Lewis & Nick Fury   
Kidnapping; References to BDSM in a non-threatening manner 

 

\---

"Do you feel like a dominatrix in that coat? Because I'd definitely feel like a dominatrix in that coat." 

Fury turned around, aforementioned coat brushing the walls of the cave/cell/bunker they were in. "No. I really don't."

"Batman, then? You kinda look like a more serious Batman who doesn't have time to go shopping for cat-ears at H&M," Theoretically, Darcy knew she should stop poking the bear, especially when said bear was running low on sleep, food, water, and the reason was because he couldn't let her get kidnapped on her own, and he couldn't get them both to safety, either. But it was just so funny. 

 "Miss Lewis, I can assure you that nothing of what I'm wearing is because I like to play dress up. I hate dress up." He went back to staring at the wall - he was probably planning their super duper complicated escape route - and Darcy sighed heavily. It wasn't as much fun anymore when his voice sounded like the definition of exhausted. Stupid empathy and sympathy making it impossible to act like an entitled brat. 

"You need rest." She said, "We've been here for, what? Forty hours, more or less, and you still haven't slept,"  
"I'm fine,"   
"Your voice sound like it's been given a massage by sandpaper. You are not fine." Even sitting down, she managed to look serious with her arms crossed like that. Fury figured it was the glasses combined with the raised eyebrow. 

"At some point, someone will have to open the door, and when they do, I'd like to be able to take them out," He, too, crossed his arms. It was unfair that she looked more imposing.   
"You can't fight them if you're passing out," She argued, "And I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't get shot just because your coordination is shit - you did see their guns, right? Their very, very big guns? Because I sure as hell did, and I don't want them anywhere near anyone," Darcy rose in all her glory, poking her finger in his chest. He looked down at her finger like he'd never seen anything like in it his life. "So go to fucking sleep." 

 "You do realise you have absolutely no power over me, right?" He sounded like every stereotypical jock in every stereotypical teenage movie ever. It was unnerving. 

 "Actually, I do. As the United States' UN Ambassador, I'm part of the delegation overseeing SHIELD and the American Navy's  involvement in this mission, meaning -" She leaned in closer, grateful her heels gave her something to work with, height-wise, "- That as Operational Leader from SHEILD, you answer to me." 

"But I'm also in charge of your security, meaning that if it's in your best interests, I can do whatever the fuck I want," He countered, grinning widely.   
"You're forgetting that I'm the one who initiated this mission, so I'll be the one answering the questions about your unnecessary death, and there's a clause in the contract that gives me power to just about anything - the language was very vague, I can assure you - so long as it's advisable from a public relations point of view." 

 "I'm contractually obligated to go to sleep, so you don't have to go up on a podium to answer uncomfortable questions?" Fury seemed both impressed and pissed at the same time. "That's a whole new _level_ of covering your bases,"

 

"Yep. And to think, if you had just admitted that you feel like a dominatrix in that coat, this conversation could probably have been avoided," 

"We both know I'm not the only one getting off on power in this room." 

"So you admit -"

"I do not feel like a dominatrix."

"I've never been so mad you're a great liar before,"

"I can see it. This is really annoying you, isn't it?" 

"Just go to sleep."

"Yes, Madame Ambassador, of course, Madame Ambassador,"

"If you stop acting a like a shithead, I'll let you use my jacket as a pillow,"

"My hero."

"Don't tell Clint. I'll be in enough trouble with the Avengers when I get out of here; I really don't want a pouty Hawkeye added to that." 

 


	2. Barbarians (Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton; Recovering Bucky Barnes)

 

Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton 

Recovering Bucky Barnes

 

\--

"I thought I told you to stop bringing home strays..." Darcy sighed, eyes pointedly flicking between the Winter Soldier and her husband. Sometimes she wondered where the control over her own life went.   
"He's not a stray." Clint rolled his eyes, hanging his bow on a hook meant for a coat Darcy had been meaning to buy for six months now. She'd probably get to it eventually. 

 "Isn't red, white and blue looking for him?" Darcy walked the few steps to her visitor, helping him off with his jacket. She kept in his sight and her hands away from as many weak points as possible, deciding she wouldn't test fate. Not today, at least. He seemed surprisingly willing to humour her, probably quite certain he could take her in a fight. How not-wrong he was would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad.

"Oh, please," Clint scoffed, "I'm much better at finding unwilling Hydra-agents than he could ever dream to be."  
"Mrs Barton? I can leav-" 'Rough around the edges' didn't even begin to cover what his voice sounded like, and whatever minimal amount of reluctance Darcy may or may not have felt (she hadn't, by the way) vanished in a second. She still interrupted him though, because tact was very touch-and-go with her. 

 "Don't take that tone with me. You're staying and that's that." She turned what Clint had dubbed her 'future Chief Justice of the Supreme Court'-eyes on him, and maybe who he used to be was used to being bossed around by women much shorter than him, or maybe Steve actually knew someone with a sense of self-preservation, or maybe it was something else entirely - either way, the Winter Soldier, or whoever he was right now, nodded his head and some of the lines in his forehead disappeared. 

 "Great! Let's get you some clothes," Clint turned a beaming smile on his new playmate. "The first step to deprogramming is not wearing the clothes given to you by the same people who brainwashed you,"

 "We should wash your hair too," Darcy mused, picking up a strand of the greasy mess, "Like, seriously? They had time to wax your chest but not wash your hair?" She shook her head. "Barbarians."

The Winter Soldier looked a bit overwhelmed, and probably wondered how she knew his chest was waxed, but he had yet to reach for one of the many weapons on his person, so the Bartons considered it a win. And if everything went to shit, they'd just call Coulson and have him come fanboy over the only person he liked better than Captain America. Complete idealisation couldn't ever be a bad thing. Probably. Hopefully. 

 


	3. Breath (Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster; Falling in Love)

Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster

Falling in Love 

 

\---

Jane is a breath of fresh air in Darcy's life. She's passionate and stubborn and she shines brighter than any of the stars Darcy's ever studied. 

(Jane laughs, "That's such a cliché,"   
But she's blushing and there's a shy smile on her lips and Darcy thinks she might want to kiss her.   
Darcy laughs too, "Doesn't change the fact that it's true.")

 Jane is a breath of hope in Darcy's life. She's daring and unafraid and she wakes butterflies in Darcy's stomach like nothing ever has.   
(Jane smiles, "I think you might like me."   
And she looks into Jane's challenging eyes and her stubborn chin and Darcy thinks she can be brave too.   
Darcy smiles, "I think you might like me.") 

 Jane is a breath of calm in Darcy's life. She's steadfast and sure and she makes Darcy think she could get used to this.   
(Jane looks at her, "I love you.  
And she thinks of the stargazing, the conversations that weren't actually conversations and Darcy thinks a breath of fresh air, of hope, of calm might be just what she never knew she was looking for.   
Darcy looks back at her, "I love you too.")

 


	4. Uncontrolled (Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson, Nightmares; PTSD)

Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson  
Nightmares; PTSD

\---  
Phil woke up shaking. It wasn't always like this; he didn't even have nightmares every night. It was just every now and then, but when it first happened... Well, Phil had never done anything halfway, and his subconscious seemed to do its very best to live up to the same standards. 

It was the worst when it was like this, when his back felt clammy against the sheets, when his stomach ached from a bullet wound long since stitched, when his muscles shook and clenched, but he wasn't able to make them move himself. Phil prided himself on that no matter how uncontrollable a situation might be, he would always be. Calm and collected; that was his trademark. 

And here he was. Shaking and uncontrolled in a bed that wasn't even his.   
"Phillip?" Darcy rolled over, still half asleep. He could see her waking when her eyes had finally adjusted to the light and she saw him. "Hey, come on," She said, and Phil could have nearly cried with how much her warm voice soothed him. 

There was a part of him - a part that was getting smaller and smaller every day - that absolutely despised that, but then again Phil had alway prided himself on being in control of himself. And squashing that thought down; his brain listening when his body won't - it feels like the best sort of petty revenge. 

"Sorry for waking you,"   
Darcy shot him a look at that, making it very clear what she thought of his statement. Her hand was running in calming circles on his biceps, her head resting on his chest. 

"Don't be," She gave his chest a light kiss, a fluttery thing that sent Phil's heart racing for much better reason than what had woken him. 

"Thank you for being here." He said quietly once the shaking was subsiding and Darcy's movement had gotten lazy and uncoordinated.   
"Thank you for letting me," 

 

 


	5. Heartbeat (Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury, White House Chief of Staff!Darcy)

This life wasn't for them and they knew it. 

She didn't have the right mindset for a spy; he didn't have the patience for Washington politics. She was a politician. He was a tactician.  

She was White House Chief of Staff and had no intention of switching to law enforcement, he was Director of SHIELD and had no business being a politician's husband. Even if you discarded the conflict of interest, they were on separate ends of the spectrum. Secrecy didn't do well for PR, and bad PR about secret government agencies on US soil who didn't really answer to the US was even worse.  

And it's not like getting a President re-elected was easy to begin with. 

Adding to that a sex scandal involving the the second female and the youngest Chief of Staff ever, and a much older and much more powerful man... Doesn't matter how many fund raisers you throw, how many times the First Lady makes a speech about feminism, without ever mentioning the word 'feminism', in order to appeal to their female voters, how many jokes the President makes at the Correspondence Dinner - none of that matters. 

All that matters, is the Washington Times article and its details on how Secret Service resources were used so an immature and in-over-her-head woman - some would say 'silly girl' - could have dirty-wrong sex with a man twice her age. 

That's all they'd see, anyway.  

They didn't see how the stress of the day left her body once she stepped into his embrace, they didn't see how his breath went short thinking about all the ways she could be used against him. 

No one else saw her get out of bed forty-five minutes earlier than needed so he could have the taste of freshly baked, homemade brownie muffins in his mouth as he went to some undisclosed location not even she could find out, which was impressive, considering her clearance level. 

No one else saw him warming up foot bath after foot bath because her heels, as amazing as they made her feel, were literally the Devil reincarnated ("I'm not overreacting, dude, look at them!"), and she still had four memos to write and twelve to read, and in seven hours she'd need to be in the Oval Office for the morning briefings. 

And her day would go on; her deputies would write legislation, her advisors would beg her with their eyes to get a few minutes in the Oval, the Director of the FBI would give his briefing on national affairs, the Director of the CIA would give his briefing on international affairs, and she would pretend the information they just gave her couldn't only be obtained by taking a look at the Constitution, and going, "Fuck it."

And his day would go on; his deputies would carry out operations all over the world, his Senior Agents would beg him with their eyes to travel on the Bifrost, he'd brief the General Secretary of the UN on crimes against political prisoners, and the Secretary General of Amnesty on crimes against women, and they'd pretend the information he just gave them came from sources so discreet they technically didn't exist. 

And they'd go their separate ways, pretending not to miss each other for two weeks, five at the most. 

And then she'd get a phone call. 

"I need you. I just... I really need you."

And for a heartbeat, she'd let herself pretend that the line wasn't secure and that she didn't just look over her shoulder - in her own damn office - to make sure there were no reporters looking for their big break lurking around. 

For a heartbeat, she'd let herself pretend. 

"I need you, too," 

For a heartbeat, she'd let herself pretend. 

"I'll wait for you in your apartment." 

For just a heartbeat... 

"I love you,"

... She'd let herself pretend that sentence wouldn't ring true her entire lifetime. Because that was the real tragedy; just how real they were, how good they were for each other. 

"I miss you."

And the sex scandal they'd be the subject of. 

That was also real. Very real. And that wasn't good for either of them. 

But you know what was actually worse than that? Worse than the public ridicule, the online harassment, the slut-shaming, her ruined career and his ruined anonymity?

They were worth it. And they knew it. 

 

It wasn't pretend. 

None if it was. 

 

Not even for a heartbeat. 

 


	6. The Fine Line (Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury, Minor NSFW; Major Character Death)

Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury  
Major Character Death

\---  
There were times when she hated him. Him and everything he stood for. 

She hated his coat and all the weapons under it.   
(She missed curling up under it when it got cold and the smell of gun oil.)

She hated his face and how it was never open.   
(She missed him and how she was the only one who could read him.)

She hated his shoulders and how they were always so tense.  
(She missed kissing them and relaxing them with a touch.)

She hated the coat on her floor, the unreadable-but-readable-to-her face in front of her and the shoulders held tightly in her hands.    
(She missed the coat on its hanger, the purposefully readable face and the shoulders held tightly in her hands. Well. She wanted it under different circumstances.)

She hated the look in his eye and the wrinkled scars around his other eye.   
(She missed seeing him happy and she missed his safety even though he'd never been when they'd known each other.) 

She hated his hands and the callouses on them.   
(She missed holding his hand under a table and slowly pumping in and out of her.)

She hated his job and how it messed everything up.   
(She missed his quiet talks of the good missions and the realistic idealism in his eyes.)

She hated his secretary and her homemade brownies.   
(She missed her old job and baking croissants for him.) 

She hated his neck and how the vein was always beating too fast.   
(She missed sleeping in the crook of it and kissing his pulse.)

She hated herself and how she hadn't said anything.   
(She missed being Darcy-and-Nick and letting him get away with being a self-sacrificing asshole.) 

She hated the bullets in his chest and the coffin in the ground.  
(She missed him. She missed him.) 

She hated the pale lipstick and how it wasn't what he would've wanted.    
(She missed kissing his cheek goodbye and having to rub off the red imprint.)

She hated the wedding band in her hands and how cold it was.   
(She missed seeing him wearing it and the chill of it waking her up in the morning.)

She hated the dog tags around her neck and the way they stick to her skin.  
(She missed the way he always stared at them when she wore them and how he could hold her hand for hours on end without it ever feeling clammy.)

She hated existence in itself.   
(She missed being able to function.)

Most of all she hated him.   
(Most of all she loved him.   
Most of all she missed him.   
Most of all she wanted him back. 

She wanted his coat on its hanger.   
She wanted his shoulders under her hands.   
She wanted his eyes smiling at her.  
She wanted his fingers on her body.   
She wanted... She wanted him. 

She wanted him and everything he stood for.) 

 

 


	7. Metaphor (Darcy Lewis/Matt Murdock, Superheroes Accidentally Hurting Themselves in the Name of Freedom)

"You know I'm not a real nurse, right?"  
"Yeah... The shaking hands kinda outed you," He chuckled, the sound ending in a small gasp as the anti-bacterial was dabbed on his wounds. She could probably have applied a lighter hand. 

"I haven't stitched someone up since I was a teenager, cut me some slack, dude," Darcy huffed, blowing the hair out of her face at the same time. Matt could smell strawberry and watermelon, taste cinnamon on his tongue. It was a strange combination, but he quite liked it. There was probably a metaphor or a life lesson somewhere near that thought, but he was too concussed to care. 

"No? Your brothers stopped jumping to your defence when you insulted someone?"   
"First of all," She cut his laugh off with a glare he could feel in his bones, reminding him of her mother, "The only reason they had to jump to my defence, was because people were too stupid to realise there were helpful tips on how to succeed in life hidden in my sarcasm," 

"Right, you were just doing you civic duty. My apologies,"  
"I'd just like to remind you that I am a holding a needle very close to very sensitive parts of your body, three of your ribs and your arm is broken, and the only reason you aren't dead is because of my goodwill,"

"Your point being..?" He egged, picturing in his kind how her eyes just narrowed and her jaw clenched. It made him smile. 

"Stop being a smartass."  
He gasped. "I'd never."

 

 


	8. It's Love (Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova, NSFW; Hydra; Brainwashing)

Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova   
NSFW; Hydra; Brainwashing

\---  
It's rebellion, they tell themselves as they rip clothes off and stare. 

It's stress relief, they tell themselves as tongues clash and teeth bite. 

It's nothing, they tell themselves as nipples are bit and clits sucked. 

It's casual, they tell themselves as inner thighs are marked and neck bruised. 

It's partnership, they tell themselves as hair is pulled and asses smacked. 

It's friendly, they tell themselves as stomachs are kissed and ribs tickled. 

It's something, they realise as fingers entwine and climaxes hits. 

It's scary, they realise as eyes meet and breaths synchronises. 

It's unsure, they realise as thoughts race and hearts beat. 

It's terrifying, they realise as lips are parted and nothing sounds. 

It's exhilarating, they realise as hands move and fingertips meet. 

It's terrifying, they realise as bodies move and chests meet. 

It's amazing, the realise as eyes stare and lips kiss. 

It's new, they say as eyelids close and dreams come. 

It's them, they realise as they wake to find each other there. 

It's fate, they realise as years go by and missions end. 

It's star crossed, they realise as bodies bleed and one screams. 

It's agony, she realise as brains reset and memories fade. 

It's cruel, she thinks as nightmares are dreamt and thoughts are too far out of reach. 

It's Hell, she thinks as her body remembers a warmth and her mind can't find it. 

It's envy, she thinks as her friends look at each other and she's missing her own. 

It's unnerving, she thinks as she stares at a bloody body covered in a white veil and remembers a knife used to rip both panties and spleens. 

It's hope, she thinks as her eyes meet someone and knees buckle. 

It's familiar, they think as bodies clash and punches land. 

It's her, they tell themselves as fingers entwine.   
It's her, they realise as warmth spreads   
It's you, they say as eyes water.   
It's us, they realise as lipstick meets Chapstick.   
It's her, they think as hearts beat and breaths heave and lips smile and ribs ache and stomachs flutter. 

It's something.

"I've missed you, Natalia."  
"I couldn't forget you, Darcy."


	9. Rebellion (Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova, Hydra; Brainwashing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I prefer writing the two them non-linearly. As you can see.

Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova  
AU: The Two Widows; Hydra; Brainwashing;

\---  
"Love is for children," She'd say, ignoring the ache in her bones and the growing desperation for something she can't remember, but just knows existed.

"I can be whatever you want me to be," She'd smirk, ignoring the tightness in her chest and the growing desperation for a feeling of absolute safety.

"Haven't you heard? You can't trust anyone these days," She'd half-laugh/half-cry, ignoring the feeling of having just betrayed a piece of her own soul and the growing desperation for whoever it was she was missing.

The one Natasha can remember in flashing memories too fleeting to grasp and nightmares that leave her shaking with choked off screams caught in her throat.

She can hear her in her dreams, a laughing, 'Alionovna!', paired with a gasping shout of the same name. She can almost feel the feather-light touches to her collarbones, travelling downwards, tickling the underside of her breasts. It hurts, how much she wants the dream to go on, to have some knowledge of what it felt like when those fingers went lower.

But the dreams always change, turning into the nightmares. Turning into bullets echoing off cement walls, of needles burning in her blood, of watching a faceless body bleed out in her arms, while she was helpless to do anyhing but watch.

There are days when she can't shake the nightmares.  
When she looks down at her hands, expecting to find them brown with dried blood.  
When she looks to her left, a question already formed and her lips open, but no one to ask.  
When she wakes up curled around a pillow, and she breathes in with a smile because, this, this is what content and happy and safe feels like.

But then there isn't any scent of melon  
("They literally want us to be mindless killers, Novna. This shampoo is, like, my one act of rebellion. And having an illicit affair with you. But that's it, I swear!")  
and it feels like a punch to the gut. Or what she imagines a punch to the gut would feel like, hadn't the she trained herself not to feel pain half a lifetime ago.

And it would be one thing if she had something to hold onto, something specific and absolute, a piece of paper or a knife with the initials 'D.E.L'.

But she didn't. And it killed her; slowly and agonisingly.  
It killed her that she didn't remember what those letters stood for.  
It killed her to remember so much but still so little.

Because she knew she loved her.  
And she knew that whoever she was, she took three bullets for her, gave her a ring decorated with clear diamonds, and Natasha also knew she'd never been that happy.  
But she could never remember enough.

Until now.

"Darcy?"  
"Who the hell is Darcy?"

And suddenly Natasha also knew what it felt like to have your breath knocked out of you. Because there she was, with eyes bluer than an ocean

("You should write me a sonnet. I feel like you'd write good sonnet.")

And skin paler than milk, looking more fragile than paper

("This is the worst sonnet ever. It's vaguely insulting!")

With three small, round scars dotting her lower stomach like a brand of... Something

("You need to go to sleep. Honestly, this is a travesty. Like, wow.")

And hair like dark chocolate

("I've never heard that before. Like, ever. You get so insanely original when you're drunk. It's okay, though. You're a very cute drunk,"

"'m not cute. 'm deadly. Could kill you, y'know."

"Keep telling yourself that,")

And lips like cherries and blueberries

("Ooh, my favourite!")

And Natasha couldn't breathe. Couldn't tear her eyes away from the ring hanging on a chain around her neck. Because resting between her collarbones, laid a silver ring decorated with black diamonds and another decorated with clear ones.

"You. You're Darcy."  
"I don't like it."

And it felt like a knife thorough her lungs, because she could remember this, too. How she was the strongest person Natasha had ever met, but their masters destroyed that name for her.

"Elizabeth."  
"Don't like that either."

Natasha closed her eyes, blinking against the memories still assaulting her.

"Eszrabeth. My Eszra."

She stared back at Natasha, hollow and empty eyes slowly waking up, a blank face slowly giving away to confusion, pain, grief and then...

"Alionovna?"

The Widows were united.


	10. Colin Firth (Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson, Temporary Character Death)

Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson  
Temporary Character Death

\---   
Darcy looked up for the floor as the elevator opened, meeting a pair of familiar brown; one eye and one eye patch. Well, they eye patch was more black than brown. Whatever.        
"Hey, Nick," She smiled weakly, trying not to think about how the last time she'd seen him, she'd been falling apart in his arms. 

"Darcy," He nodded, not mentioning how she stilled at her full name. He'd always called her 'Darce', but then again that was just another reminder of the man they'd lost.   
"What..." She cleared her throat as she got out of the elevator, falling into step next to him. Nick didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but the clacking of her heels didn't seem as loud as before. "Why am I here?" She said hoarsely, "Why today?" She continued in a smaller voice. Going to Stark/Avengers/Who-the-hell-knows Tower wasn't on her agenda, to say the least. 

"Because I messed up." Nick said after a beat, resolutely staring ahead, even as he felt her heavy gaze upon him. 

"How?" He didn't need to look at her to know that her brow was furrowed, instead continuing to stare at the door they were approaching. "Please tell me he wasn't -"   
"No." Nick finally looked at her again, one hand on the door handle. "He wasn't Hydra."  
"I know. I knew that," Darcy leaned against the wall at her back, feeling shame well up, her stomach aching with it. Nick didn't say anything, just continued breathing against the bile in his throat.

"But.." He hedged, keeping himself from flinching when Darcy's head snapped up. He knew the _crack_ in her spine wasn't imaginary. "But he didn't... He's not - Hydra was -"  
"Just tell me." She stared at him with her eyes narrowed, and he knew that she was trying to keep herself from hoping. There had been so many who turned not to be as dead as expected and Darcy had always been an optimist. 

"He survived. He survived and Hydra took him." Darcy faltered; eyes wide, breath heaving, hands trying to grip the smooth wall behind her.   
"I - what? What, how? How did that - how did he..?" She slid down the wall, legs shaking in her shoes, and Nick couldn't help reaching out to steady her. She slapped his hands away, clawing at his chest as she tried to push her tears away. She failed. "Nick, I don't need you to help me stand!" She yelled, her fingers gripping his sweater. "I need you to tell me what the hell you just said." She met his stare unflinchingly, though she was chewing her lower lip. 

"Alexander Pierce was Hydra."  
"Alexander Pierce came to my wedding."  
"And he was Hydra. When SHIELD was still up, we all did things for Hydra, even when we didn't know -"  
"Which says just as much about you organisation as theirs," Darcy bit out, fingers tightening. 

"I didn't like it!" Nick snapped, "Fucking hell, the only reason I took the job as the director was because I knew something was wrong and that was the best way of monitoring it. I know, and you know it too, that an organisation like SHIELD is necessary, but we weren't..." He looked away for a few milliseconds, "We did things for Hydra and didn't notice it, because sometimes it's very easy to justify killing."

Darcy could see he had more to say, but this wasn't the time. 

"What does this have to with my husband?"   
"He was the best Operative we had. And as long as he was SHIELD, Hydra could get some use of him, so they let him be. That's why I had you under separate protection, by the way. I knew something was wrong, I just didn't - doesn't matter." Darcy's grip loosened as her eyes grew more and more horrified. 

"No. No, they didn't -"  
"When Loki happened," Nick interrupted, words rushing out. "When Loki happened, it was like Vietnam was over all over again, if the celebration I imagine they had, was anything to judge by. That's the only reason no one took Hakweye out when he went rogue and we still didn't know about the brainwashing; Hydra worked with Loki. But your husband didn't and he... Died." If this was any other situation, Nick would have rolled his eye. "Well, almost. They got him out, and I _knew_ something was up. Pierce seemed off, and Sitwell was... Odd. But I couldn't trust my judgement, I couldn't -"

"Nick..." She whispered, tears streaming. "What did they do to him?"   
"He survived, but he was -" Nick took a deaP breath, steeling himself," - Bad. He was really bad, because they couldn't just wipe his memories and he'd be good to go. They had to fix him, they had to get him working again," 

"How? I mean, I know it takes more than some god throwing a temper tantrum to kill him, but..." Darcy finally sat down at the parquet, her legs unable to hold her up any longer.   
"They gave him some version of a Serum. From what we could tell, it's a mixture of what my father had, what I have some of, and what Rogers has now. It's closer to Romanova's enhancement than Barnes', but there are similarities with Banner's too."

"You seem to know a lot. How long have you had him?" She squeezed his hand, because even though he had, at least it looked that way now, kept her from her husband, he was still her friend too. He ignored her question, but she knew he'd get back to it.   
"We found him just as they were working on getting him programmed -"  
"Why did you find him?" 

"We had an Agent undercover, Dr. Simmons, who messaged us, saying 'No amount of information is worth this. Get here, _now_. '. You'd like her. Her partner had even programmed her phone so she could use italics in texts,"

Darcy was grateful this Simmons had saved her husbands life, but she had slightly more pressing concerns at the moment, and waved her hand in a 'get on with it'-gesture.   
"She didn't know who he was - only that he was SHIELD -, but Captain Rogers and Agent Barton were the ones leading the operation, and they did."   
"Barton?"   
"Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Anyway, he was in the middle of getting programmed, and in pretty bad shape, so they had a bit trouble getting him out,"  
"What kind of trouble?" Darcy interrupted.   
"We found videos..." Nick hedged, but figured it was best just to tell her. "When we went through the facility later, we found videos from earlier. Videos of failed attempts at programming. "  
"What? They managed to get Barnes programmed in the forties, why couldn't they get him too?"   
"Barnes was a soldier, not a former CIA agent trained to withstand extreme torture."

"Torture?"   
"Physical, at first." Nick answered, getting prepared to run for something Darcy could throw up in. "As they realised that didn't work; mental."  
"Sexual?"   
"No. They used you against him, but he didn't break. He wanted to; you were always his soft spot. But he knew I had you protected. It didn't stop him from, I don't know, deteriorating might be the word, and there's only so many times you can be told your wife is getting murdered before you start believing it." Nick kept his eyes on Darcy, one hand on her shoulder to ground her breathing. She was shaking, chin trembling. 

"And?" She asked, voice hoarse again.   
"He was screaming your name when we found him."  
"Oh, God." Darcy rested her forehead on her knees, taking a few seconds to get herself together. _What did they do to you, Phil_?   
"He didn't recognise anyone, but Barton managed to convince him he was legit. Apparently, they'd had some downtime after a mission, and your husband babbles about you when he's drunk."

Darcy's lips twitched weakly. 

"This was three months ago."   
"So I'll ask again, why now?"  
"Because..." Nick hesitated again, and if Darcy felt less like her world had just been shattered and built back up again three times, she might have made some remark about how she didn't think that was possible. "One of the reasons programming him was difficult, was because they needed him semi-conscious in order to be what they wanted him to be. So they tried to program him just enough, just enough of the drugs and shock therapy, but they failed. Either it was too much or too little. But..." Nick dabbed at Darcy's tears with his a handkerchief he'd gotten for who knows where,"Figthing is in his bones. And no amount of brainwashing changes that."

"He killed under their command." Darcy said, empty eyes staring at some point in the wall, "And he blames himself. He was probably recovering from the trauma, and his coping mechanism was blaming himself, right?" 

Nick nodded. 

"And this was just another thing to add to the pile of 'Why we shouldn't be married even though we're the closest thing to soulmates there is', right? I mean, he was reluctant to get involved with me when is was just SHIELD, and the dark shades of grey he'd dabbled in for them, but now?" Darcy shook her head and rose on wobbly legs, straying herself on Nick. "Now he's just being an idiot. And that's nothing new. Where is he?" She asked, voice still raw but steady. 

"In that door,"  
"And I take it he's been watching us?"   
"Well, he is a spy," Nick said, hint of smile playing at his lips. Darcy laid her hand on the door handle, taking a deep breath. She pushed it down, and looked up as she stepped into the room. 

If she'd been paying any attention to anyone or anything other than the man standing three meters away from her, she would have seen the Avengers watching her intently, along with Pepper Potts, Jane Foster and a few people she'd later come to know as Jemma, Fitz, Skye and Mack. But for now, she looked at her husband, drinking in the new scar on his forehead going down into his brow, how his blue eyes were just a bit too blue to be natural, his slightly bulkier frame - though she already knew there was a lot more hiding under the suits than people thought -, and the burn mark on his forearm. 

"I've never seen you wear a t-shirt in public before," She said, because what else was she supposed to say?    
"Since when do you wear skirts?" He countered, and Darcy's stomach twisted again, this time in happiness. _That_ was the man she'd married. 

"You died, remember? No one there to wash my jeans perfectly," She said, striding quickly towards him and throwing her arms around his neck, hiding her face in his shoulder. She could feel him reach out for her, broad hands settling on her back, while neither of them mentioned how both of their shirts were getting more tear stained the longer they held on. 

Distantly, she could hear the rest of the room clearing, realising they were there to support him should she have rejected him. 

"Your new playmates have very little faith in our marriage," She whispered into his ear, inhaling the familiar scent of shaving cream. It always lingered, for some reason. 

"They've watched me mope for you for three months, so I think they were just curious."

"Well, I've moped for you for two years -" His hands tightened around her - which she didn't actually think was possible, but then again he'd always surpassed reality - at the thought of having to live through Darcy's death, "So I'm going to hug you for at least three more hours before I meet them," She said, leaning her head back so she could look at him properly. 

 

"I'm sorry for waiting so long to contact you."

"I understand," Darcy shrugged, "But could you not have picked the anniversary of your death? My nerves were frayed enough, thank you," She said wetly, while wiping both of their cheeks. 

"You've been watching Pride and Prejudice again?"

"Colin. Firth." She said, as if that explained everything. And it did, at least to her husband. 

 

"I love you. So much. And I'm sorry I couldn't believe you love me just as much," He said intently, carding his fingers through her hair. He always did that when he needed to calm her down. 

"It was only for a few months, and you were kinda kidnapped and tortured beforehand. I'm sure I'll find some way of forgiving you," Darcy smiled, leaning in to finally kiss her husband. 

"And I love you too, Phil," She said once she came up for breath, "And if you ever die on me again, I'll smack you."

"Trained to withstand torture," He said wryly, eyebrow raised. Darcy still couldn't quite believe he was here, right in front of her. 

 

"Fine. Then I'll tell you about how much I've cried for you," 

Phil's eyes widened, immediately enveloping her in a hug. 

"I'm really sorry."

"Serves you right," Datcy grumbled, before beginning the meticulous work of sucking hickey into his neck. They'd deal with everything later. 

 


	11. Fuse (Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson, Daddy Kink; Office Sex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY NSFW
> 
> DADDY KINK
> 
> JUST KINY STUFF
> 
> DONT LIKE DONT READ SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

Darcy Lewis/Phil Coulson,  
Daddy Kink 

\---  
It was... Not an accident. People don't just slip and whoops! The penis enters the vagina. First of all, Darcy needs foreplay. Lots of it. Second; where would the clothes go? Would they fall off as you slipped, shoelaces untying on their own, buttons ripped by their own accord? What's she's trying to say here, is that there were certain logistics behind it. She just couldn't remember them right now, writhing in nothing but high heels, a ripped blouse and a bra in Phil Coulson's lap. Did she mention they were in his office? Yeah. Mhm. Darcy gave up the controls of her own life when a God fell out of the sky - but. This was on a whole new level. 

"Daddy, _please_!" That was another thing, by the way. Complete accident, she swears. (Expect absolutely not, because there were conversations and safewords and lists of things that were very okay, okay, not okay and definitely not okay. Phil was thorough.)

"Patience, Princess. Come on now, hold on for me a little while longer, baby," He said into her ear, thumb moving leisurely on her clit, her hole leaking onto his trousers.   
"Daddy, I don't wanna wait!" Darcy whined, throwing her head back and gasping as Phil's other hand slapped her ass lightly.  She'd be red. She'd love it.   
"Who's in charge here, Princess?" His voice was completely steady, just like his thumb on her clit, slowly driving her towards the brink. His other hand, strong and calloused, traveled up from her ass, around her hip and between her breasts, finally ending at her neck. "Who owns you, Darling?" He asked, letting some of that strength in his hand show through. 

Darcy gasped, the effect of his voice and his hands going straight to her throbbing clit, to her sore nipples. She could still breathe, but the knowledge that she just as easily couldn't... It did things to her, okay. None of this was planned, remember.   
"You do, Daddy," She said on a breath, gripping his shoulders with her hands. "I'm yours, Daddy."   
"And what does that mean, baby?" 

He let a finger dance around her hole, never pushing all the way in; only letting the tip catch between her folds.   
"It mean - ah, Daddy! - it means you decide, Daddy,"   
"Good girl, Princess," He praised, kissing her softly, and then finally pushing his finger all the way in. Darcy whined, wiggling around to get it in further. It wasn't enough, she needed more, she needed something -

"Shush, Princess. I know what you need," Phil murmured, wiping away a tear with his thumb. He moved it down her cheek, pushing it into to her mouth. His breath caught in his throat as she latched onto it, the suction a near perfect echo of what it would feel like on his cock, the scrape of her teeth a perfect contrast. "Why don't you let Daddy take care of you, huh? It what I'm here for, right?" 

Darcy nodded, still moving around in his lap, unconsciously grinding against Phil's dick.   
"Use your words, Princess. Isn't that what I'm here for, taking care of you?"   
"Yes, Daddy," She whispered after letting go of his finger with a 'pop!', "Daddy, can I please..." Her question broke with a moan as his finger gained speed inside her, a second one resting just by her hole. His thumb was still rubbing her clit, going faster and faster every minute. Darcy was so close, she could _almost_  feel it. 

"What, Princess? Tell Daddy what you want." Thing you couldn't tell, Phil was nearly at his wits end. How could he not be; watching Darcy's flushed cheeks, her nipples pebbled against that flimsy excuse for a bra, her thighs moving her around on his lap, the way she sometimes stared at his tented trousers, like all she wanted was in them. 

"I want you," She finally managed to say, eyes closed against the humiliation of having spell it out.   
"You have me, Princess. And you're supposed to call me Daddy, sweetheart,"   
"Yes, Daddy," She moaned as a second finger entered her, the two of them enough for her to feel a stretch. "Daddy, can I please have your cock?" 

Jesus Christ, Phil thought, trying desperately not to let his frustration show on his face. She could have whatever she wanted.   
"Is that what you want, Princess?" He managed to keep his voice steady enough for her not to notice, but the eager nod of her head and the way her cheeks flushed even darker was nearly enough to send him over the edge. 

"Yes, Daddy," Darcy whined, pushing harder down on his lap, grinding against his hard-on. "I feel so empty without it, Daddy," She whispered with wide eyes; like it was a confession.   
"We wouldn't want that," Phil said with a dry mouth, finally opening his belt. He could tell she wasn't happy with the loss of contact, her fingers itching to touch herself. He'd trained her well, though, because they didn't move from his shoulders. 

With his cock finally freed from his boxers, he had to concentrate even harder on not coming already, with the way Darcy was looking at it. 

"Can I taste it, Daddy?" She asked, and Phil had to swallow twice before answering.   
"Not now, Princess," He wouldn't last. "But you can ride me if you want?" 

She grinned eagerly, biting her lower lip as she moved into position. Phil placed his thumb on her clit again, and with her hole positioned on the head of his cock, he could feel her clenching.  
"You like that, Princess?" 

"Yes, Daddy!" She moaned loudly, finally taking all of him inside her. They both breathed heavily as she adjusted to the stretch, staring into each others eyes, breaths mingling. "Daddy, it feels so good," 

"For me too, Princess,"   
At that she grinned again, tentatively moving her hips. She tried a few different paces, moving up and down, before finally the best way for her.   
"Oh, God!" She moaned weakly, breasts jumping as she moved, nails scratching on Phil's shoulder.   
"Oh, Princess, just like that," Phil whispered, one thumb rubbing furiously on her clit, nearly losing its grip in all her juices. "Fuck, you feel so good, all wet and hot," 

"Daddy, tell me more," She begged.   
"I think about it all the time, you sitting like this. In my office, when anyone can just walk in. Do you like that, Princess, that anyone can see us? Do you think about it when you're alone and you touch yourself, does that make you ache down there?" 

"Yes, Daddy!"   
"I do too, about how they'd know who you belonged to. I see the way they look at you, with your skirts and you heels, and sometimes I just want to take you right there, in front of them. Would you like that, Princess? Let them see who you let own you, who you let touch you?" 

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm so close!"   
"I know I'd like that. I'd like to eat you all up in front of them, too. Hike up your skirt and spread your legs, seeing that pretty, little cunt of yours all laid out for me. I'd take my time with it, too, teasing you with your panties still on. 

"I'd bite your thighs as they all watched, so they could see me marking you up. You like that, don't you? I can feel you clenching at the thought of it, at everyone seeing me claim you. Thne I'd rip your panties off, and just spread your lips. Look at you, let you squirm. You like it when I don't touch you, don't you?" 

Phil finally snapped, lifting Darcy up and placing her on his desk, holding onto her hips as he fucked into her, always talking. 

"I can just see you dripping, you know. I can see how wet you'd get, and finally. Finally I'd let my tongue catch a few of those drops, not touching enough. Not enough to get you going crazy, but enough for you to let out one of those delicious noises.

"Then I'd play with you with my fingers; run them through your folds, smearing your juices all over. Maybe I'd fuck with you with two of them, just like I'm doing with cock now. But it wouldn't be enough that either, would it?" 

Phil pinched one of her nipples, watching as tears streamed from her eyes as she gasped and moaned. She looked absolutely wrecked and fucking beautiful. "No, Daddy," She whimpered, back arching as her climax neared. "I'd need more, Daddy," 

"Damn right. You're a greedy little one, so I'd have to bend down and flick your clit with my tongue at the same time, wouldn't I? 

"I'd have to suck on your clit, slowly working you up. You'd be swollen to twice the size before I'd let you come, and only when you're screaming my name, Princess,"   
Darcy gripped the desk harder, needing something to anchor herself on.   
"And what's my name, Princess?"

She couldn't think, couldn't speak. She was spiralling out of control, the orgasm moving though her entire body. She felt like a bomb, like all it took was a trigger and she'd explode.   
"What's my name, Princess?" Phil asked again, hand clasping around her neck. "What do you scream when you come for me, Princess?" 

"Fuckfuckfuck - Daddy!"

 

 


	12. Empathy (Darcy Lewis/Unknown, Kidnapping; Violence; Possible Character Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is very dramatic bcuz I'm pretty sure i was listening to Beautiful Crime by Tamer when I wrote this.

Darcy Lewis/Unknown  
Kidnapping; Violence; Possible Character Death

\---  
"He's killed a lot people, your husband," He laughed; a frantic, manic, ugly sound that echoed off the wall and made the hairs on Darcy's neck stand. "Did you know that? Do you know what he does for a living?" 

His hands - one with a gun, one without - kept running through his hair, pulling so hard Darcy thought he wanted the pain. There were streaks of red in it, the colour of it stark against his blond hair. _Her_ blood. 

"Yes," She finally answered, flinching as her ribs shifted under bruised skin. Her entire torso was in agony; purples and reds and blues overlapping each other and guts nearly spilling out of a bullet wound. 

"And how do you..." He didn't look at her, somehow managing to keep his face from her line of sight. He'd told her earlier he didn't like blood. If it wasn't for the fact that he was the one who shot her in the stomach, she might have had some sympathy for him. "How do you deal with that? With knowing that, that the ma-ma-man in your bed is a killer?" 

"Who did he kill?" She asked on a harried breath, feeling the pressure of tears in her eyes. Getting shot was fucking painful. "Why do you need to hurt me for it?"   
He didn't seem to hear her - too lost in his own mind to pay her any attention. "I keep running thorough it in my-my head, knowing that the pe-pe-person you choose to spend your life with has actually taken a life," 

Darcy kept her eyes trained on him as best she could, at his fidgeting fingers, his shaking hands and the gun resting in them. At his hunched shoulders, the erratic nodding of his head. She didn't feel sorry for him, and maybe that made her a bad person, but she did have empathy. She could understand where he was coming from.   
"Tell me about them," She said, trying to remember what to do in a situation like this. Her mind kept running around in circles, thoughts seeming so far out of reach. But she was supposed to build a rapport, right? Make them see her as a human being. "Tell me about who you lost,"

"I ca-ca-can't understand it, I don't. Understand." His words were forced, strained and laced with confusion and anger. His throat must be hurting. "You're a - you seem like a nice person," His gaze flickered to her for a fraction of a second, and Darcy could see a glimpse of what had been a beautiful man.   
Blond hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones. Except his hair was dirty and unkept, his eyes were manic in the moonlight from the window, and his cheeks were so hollow it looked like his cheekbones were cutting through the fragile skin. 

"I try to be," She answered, and through half-lidded eyes she could see him finally looking at her. At the hole in her stomach, the cut on her forehead and the blood trickling down her chin - the same blood she could taste in her mouth.  
"Then how?" He asked, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. "How do you love someone like that?" His fingers flexed around the shaft of the gun, desperate for something to anchor himself to. She could see him holding onto his sanity just as tightly, broken and bloodied nails digging in for dear life. 

"What do you want me to say?" Darcy breathed against the nausea, concentrating on not throwing up as her guts would probably follow. "Do you want me to tell you that whoever you lost was a criminal? That they probably attacked my husband first? Is that what you want to hear?" 

"No," He shook his head and raised his gun, kept it trained on her forehead. There were tears coming down his cheeks, ending up on a dirty t-shirt. Darcy noted with suprise ther own cheeks were wet too. She couldn't tell you who the tears were for; her or him or the ones he lost.  "No, I wa-wa-want you to say you're sorry, that it was his fault! That they didn't deserve it!"   
"I am. I am sorry for you lo-" 

"It's not enough, you stupid bitch!" He screamed, the walls of the room seeming to cave in with the sudden force of his voice. Darcy flinched, gasping at the pain of it. He kept spinning in circles, muttering words that only made sense to him, banging his head against the wall above her. She could feel droplets of blood hitting her head.   
"Then what do you want?" She asked as calmly as she could, her own shaking hand reaching up and clasping his. His hand twitched in hers, conflicting emotions spilled across his face. In the end, loneliness must have won, and they held on to the gun together. It still seemed huge. "Tell me what you want and let me help you," 

Her eyes felt so heavy. 

"I just..." He sniffled, wiping his nose on his dirty sleeve. "I ju-ju-just want them back. I wa-wa-want them back," He collapsed in front of her, weak knees giving out under the exhaustion and stress. 

"I know," Darcy cleared her throat, tried to get it to work properly. "I know you do. But hurting me won't bring them back and you know that,"   
He nodded frantically at the floor, and a stray tear hit Darcy's leg at the movement. 

"I just wanted him to-to feel it, what it's li-li-like to lose your entire world," He leaned forwards on his hands, the gun still heldt tightly between their hands. Darcy's other hand was clutching at her stomach, at the bleeding she knew would render her unconscious soon. "I just wanted hi-hi-him to feel his very _being_ ripped away at-at the co-co-core," 

He looked up at her through his lashes, eyes pleading and begging her to fix this, to make the pain and the grief and sorrow just stop. She found herself wishing she could help him. 

"And you think killing me will, what?" Darcy breathed deeply again, and this time it didn't make her ribs ache. Through a haze of dizziness and exhaustion she remembered that was a bad sign. "Make it easier for you to sleep at night?" She mumbled, moving the hand at her stomach to thread through his hair. Distantly she wondered if Stocholm Syndrome has ever kicked in so quickly before. 

"It won't," She coughed, struggling to keep her eyes open. "You know it."  
"I know, I kn-kn-know, I'm so sorry," He cried, snot and tears mixing on his face, "Darcy, please, te-te-tell me what do, please," He begged, and she could feel pressure on her stomach again, thin fingers running over her body. "Keep you-you-your eyes open, come on!"

The door was kicked in. 

Her husband shouted her name. 

But the darkness... Well, it's no news it has a way of bringing people into its warmth. 

 


	13. Hey, Soul Sister (Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova/Bucky Barnes, Soulmates; Kidnapping; Graphic Description of Violence; Graphic Description of Torture)

Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova/Bucky Barnes,  
Soulmates; Kidnapping; Graphic Description of Violence; Graphic Description of Torture 

 

 

\---  
"I think my life might be in danger when I meet them," Darcy confessed to Jane, downing another Tequila shot. "But I'm not scared. Should I be scared?"   
"Can I see you words? I can't help you unless I know,"   
Darcy stared at Jane; her best friend for the past few months and the most brilliant person she's ever known. Of course she'd show her. 

 

Wordlessly, Darcy turned her back to Jane and pulled up her sweater. She could hear Jane's sharp intake of breath, and a few seconds later she could feel a small finger lightly tracing the words. It didn't hurt when Jane touched them, but it was uncomfortable. It was like her body knew Jane wasn't the right one. 

"The handwriting is beautiful," Jane finally said after a few minutes of silence. Darcy let her sweater down and turned back with a shy smile gracing her lips.   
"I know," She giggled, "It almost makes up for the nickname," 

Jane choked on her water, coughing and laughing in between heaving for breath.   
"At least you have words," She finally said, her eyes - as always - going a bit clouded when she thought of her mark. 

"Jane," Darcy grabbed Janes hand and held onto to it tightly. "I think your soulmate might be an alien. So just chill."  
"There's no proof of other intelligent life out there, Darcy,"   
"But I know you're not so selfish that you think the human species were the greatest thing the Big Bang could come up with." 

Jane shrugged, but she was smiling. Darcy figured her job as friend was done. 

\---

Thor happened. Darcy got really drunk with one of the jackbooted thugs ("No, please. Call me Clint." He'd grinned.) and cried a little bit on his shoulder.   
"It's just the adrenaline leaving your body. Just hang in there, girly. You did great."  
Darcy shook her head to the best of her ability, clutching his upper body even harder than before. 

"'Course you did. Those dogs are still alive because of you. That's more than most people can say."

\--- 

The kidnapping shouldn't have come as a surprise, really, not when you think about it. She knew a lot of stuff, and even though she couldn't be bothered to understand most of it, it was still etched in her brain so tightly she knew it as well as her fathers cupcake recipe.   
"Come on, Darcy," The man grinned. He looked _nothing_  like Clint. "Just tell me what I want, sweetheart."

Darcy straightened her back to the best of her ability - it was difficult when you were tied to a chair with three broken ribs and a throbbing, bloody face - and looked him straight in the eye. 

"I have never been, am not now, nor ever will be, your _sweetheart_ ," She spat, her eyes wild with exhaustion and adrenaline. If she'd seen herself, she'd have laughed at how much she looked like Jane after a three-day science bender.  

He slapped her cheek, her neck creaking with the force of it. "Fine," He said, with a restrained calm that made Darcy's entire body freeze. "Just tell me what I want," He smiled, "Bitch."  
Darcy smiled, too. "That the best you could do?"   
His entire face twisted into an angry, ugly grimace that made him look fifteen years older. 

"Make her talk." He commanded his second in command, before leaving the room with heavy steps. The door nearly shook when it slammed shut.   
"Alright, Miss," The woman said, "you've had your chance you cooperate." Her features hardened. "Now, we do it my way."

Darcy's screams could be heard through the entire building. But she loved Jane more than she feared _them_. 

\--- 

"My sister has been missing for four days, brethren," Thor'a voice boomed through the room, and the only other sound was Jane's frantic writing of algorithms only a handful of people could understand. "And we need to find her fast. Otherwise," Thor let the word hang in the air for a few seconds while his eyes narrowed. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to bring the entire forces of Asgard down to Midgard."

"Okay," Tony Stark clapped his hands. "Let's avoid that."

\---

Natasha eased her way through a cracked window, mentally cataloging everything in the room before reporting back to Coulson. 

"Everything is in place, sir."   
"Roger. Keep moving, Widow."  
"Sir."

Bucky followed her through the window as Natasha neared the door, falling lightly on his feet while she worked the lock. With a soft _click_ , it opened, and Natasha finally felt her mind go blank. The mission was the only thing that mattered right now. By the sounds of Bucky's breathing, he was in the same mindset. 

Bucky covered her back while she eased her way through the door and down the corridor, his heavy presence a comfort she hadn't felt in near thirty years. It felt good. 

" _Please, stop_!" Someone screamed, and everyone on the coms could hear Thor's soft, " _Darcy_!"

Bucky and Nat stilled while they waited to see if Thor would stick to the plan. He'd threatened with an intergalactic war when they'd carefully suggested that he sit out on the fight, so they weren't completely unfounded in their worry. 

"Natalia, please find my sister," He said after four seconds of ear shattering silence.   
"Of course," Bucky answered for her, since she was already moving down the hall. 

"I am not telling you _anything_!" The same voice screamed. Natasha moved a little faster. 

\---

"Don't be like that, darling," The woman - Sadie, she'd said. Darcy had laughed -, "I just want to know a few formulas. I know they're in there somewhere," She sing-songed, her fingertip carefully moving over her forehead. Darcy's head fell back into Sadie's stomach, her entire body shaking from the effort of breathing and not throwing up at the same time. 

"Are you tired, baby?" Sadie asked sweetly, not bothering to wait for an answer. _Good,_ Darcy thought. _You're not getting one_. "I know you are," Sadie tutted, her nail scraping against a gaping wound on Darcy's forehead. She winced. "Just tell me, baby, and it will all go away..." She promised, but when Darcy's mouth opened it was a hoarse chuckle that escaped. 

"You're every bad cliché wrapped into one," Darcy forced out, shivering when Sadie's nail pressed harder into the wound.   
"I know. But it's working, right?" Sadie moved back in front of Darcy, bending down so they were nose tip to nose tip. "I mean, they're clichés for a reason, sweetheart," 

Her hand squeezed painfully on Darcy's thigh, before her hand moved upwards toward the nail she'd lodged in it earlier. Darcy could only watch as two of Sadie's fingers gripped the nail innocently. 

"You know how this goes, Darcy,"   
Darcy steeled herself. "I'm. Not. Talking." 

\---

Another scream ripped through the building, followed by the rippling sound of thunder crashing above.   
"Thor," Steve said patiently. "We'll get her back. Let Nat and Bucky do their job and concentrate on your own."

Thor nodded tightly, and smashed a guard's face in using his hammer. He grinned at the sound of the _crack_ , and Steve was reminded that his friend was worshipped for decades as the Æsir of war by one of the most violent populations in history. 

Steve went back to fighting, arrows piecing thorough the air around him, landing in the chests and heads of people behind him. He could hear Hawkeye's steady and quiet breathing over the coms. 

"Thanks,"  
"No problem, Cap."

\---

"Sir, we're at the door the Package is behind. Orders?"   
"Retrieve." 

Coulson stood at parade rest along with everyone else in the room; Director Fury right next to him, Agent Thirteen and May right behind him. They were geared up and ready to go within seconds, should everything go to Hell. 

On the six screens in front of them they could see a shabby building crawling with heavily armed guards, and the Avengers moving from floor to floor to take them all out, one by one. Phil made a mental note to send Sky some of that chocolate she liked to thank her for the cameras. It helped having a world class hacker on their team. 

Black Widow opened the door in question without a sound, stepping just as quietly in the room. Neither Miss Lewis or the Unknown Assailant noticed her entering, nor Winter Soldier's just a few seconds after. They blended seamlessly into the darkness, and everyone watching could see they how they could _touch_  the woman sliding a knife up and down Miss Lewis' arm. 

They were all thankful Thor did as he wanted and went to fight instead of staying back, as no one in this room though he would take kindly to the sight of Miss Lewis. She looked like she'd been to Hell and back, with a stop in the Battle of Leningrad. 

As much as they tried, no one could understand  how someone could do this to another. And, as much as they tried, they couldn't understand how Miss Lewis was able to keep her mouth shut. 

\---

"You know, if we can't get it out of you, we'll just go straight to the source,"   
The was an audible hitch in Darcy's already laboured breathing, and Sadie smiled victoriously. 

"What was the name again? Oh, right," Sadie chuckled and Darcy wanted to kick her teeth in.   
"Jane. Sweet, little Jane Maria Foster,"  
"Don't you dare say her name," Darcy compiled all of her strength and pushed her head up so she could look at her. "Thor wouldn't let you. And I think Tony Stark has a soft spot for her too. Science buddies, y'know?" 

"We'd work arou-"  Sadie stopped mid sentence and for a split second Darcy didn't understand what just happened. Then a few drops of blood fell from her forehead just before her entire body dropped to the floor with a heavy _thud._

A redhead Darcy's subconscious immediately classified as 'Danger' stood in Sadie's place, her gun already tucked away in a holster on her thigh. The only trace left of the incident was the gunpowder covering her fingertips. 

She dropped to her knees and immediately began working on the bindings on her feet and hands while Darcy could do nothing more than stare. 

\---

"Do you have my sister?" Thor demanded, his breath not even slightly laboured from the fight.   
"Yes." Came Bucky's answer. Steve could see the way Thor's shoulders loosened. 

In the control room, Jane finally fell into a chair. Director Fury had to steady it to keep it from toppling. 

\---

Darcy jumped at the sound of the new voice, her head snapping up to see where it came from. She felt dizzy with bloodloss, her entire body felt like it was on fire and freezing at the same time, and she would really just like to go sleep, but she tried her hardest to concentrate on the silhouette of a big man as it stepped into the little bit of light that streamed from the door opening. 

She sagged in relief when she saw the mask and the metal arm, recognising him from all the news footage. She'd made a point out of not watching most of the Avengers coverage because of her friend and it was kind of weird, but you must have lived under a rock in order to have avoided the story of James Barnes. 

Then the redhead finally looked at Darcy, and when she spoke, Darcy's entire world stopped. " _Darcy, listen to me. My name is Natasha and I'm going to keep you safe. Can you trust that?"_

_\---_

Jane rose so quickly from her chair that the Director had to steady her again. "What the _fuck_  did she just say?"

\---

Thor's entire body froze before he broke into the biggest smile his face was capable of. Steve and Clint found themselves smiling without even knowing why. 

\---

Natasha watched as Miss Lewis' eyes widened, slightly surprised because the bloodloss should have rendered her incapable of almost everything by now. 

" _Of course I trust you. You're my soulmate_." 

And then she fell into Natasha's arms, covering her recently discovered soulmate in her own blood - and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Natasha didn't know what to do, other than staring down at the woman in her lap. Her _soulmate._

Bucky came out from the shadows again, his eyes unable to leave the unconscious state of the girl, his fingers fiddling with the bandages they'd brought with them.   
"Wake her up." Bucky said, and Natasha did as he said. Her mind was too busy racing with thought she could grasp to function on her own. 

\---

"You smell like green apple," Darcy mumbled, watching with as much attention as she was capable of as her soulmate's - _soulmate!!!_  - lips twitched. "I love green apple," 

\---

"Oh, Darcy," Jane whispered, watching as a wound in her friends stomach bled sluggishly. She tightened her death grip around Fury's hand. He didn't mind. 

Darcy's eyes fluttered, her breath becoming heavier with the effort of keeping them up. 

\---

Bucky held eye contact with the girl as he felt around the wound in her stomach. It was deep, fatal and made from the knife currently discarded on a table not two meters away from them. Her entire body was covered in bruises, nails embedded in her sore flesh with a nail gun, her pale skin was covered in knife cuts and blood, her face a swollen and purple mess. Somehow, her eyes were still visible, and the striking baby blues stared back at him the best they could. Bucky had never felt jealous of Nat, not until now. He wished he could have pulled the trigger. 

As her eyes began to droop dangerously, he finally pulled himself out of the trance.   
" _We've been looking for you a long time, doll, so you better stay awake. We're not losing you - not now_." 

Her full lips twisted into a smile that still looked beautiful despite the blood, and she made a sound that vaguely resembled a laugh. 

" _That's funny. You're actually from the forties_."

\---

Steve and Clint finally knew why they were grinning.   
"It's her?"  
"Yes," Thor smiled. Their friends had finally found each other. 

\---

"I'm tired," Darcy whispered.   
"I know, honey," Natasha said soothingly, her finger combing through Darcy's hair, easily avoiding the wounds. "But stay awake for us, okay?"   
"I'm sorry," Darcy mumbled with unshed tears in her eyes, as they shut. 

Bucky's blood turned to ice. Steve had promised that wouldn't happen again. 

\---

"Is she awake? After all that hard work, it'd just be rude to die,"  
"Mr. Stark, I will have you escorted out of here, I swear to God," A new voice snapped, and Darcy was kind of tired of not recognising people right next to her. "Miss Lewis? I'm Dr. Karev, and I've been taking care of you while you've been out. I know your body hurts, and you don't want to wake up, but can you please open your eyes for me?"

Darcy grunted in response to the calm voice, and she could practically feel the tension in the room. _She's alive_. _She'll live_. 

"Darcy?" Jane. That was definitely Jane. "Darcy, can you hear me?"  
"Yeah," Darcy's voice was as rough as sandpaper, and everyone in the room winced at the sound. "I can hear you. And it sounds like you haven't slept in five days, so..."

Jane laughed, a slightly hysterical sound, as Darcy's eyes finally opened. Though she couldn't see it, Natasha and Bucky's shoulders lost the last of their tension. 

"Hi." Jane smiled shakily, wiping a tear away. "I've missed you,"  
"I know," Darcy smiled. "I didn't say anything,"  
"I know," Jane repeated, before moving back and letting two vaguely familiar people through. 

"My name is Natasha," The woman smiled, her hand making an aborted movement towards Darcy's head. By the way everyone zeroed in on the action, Darrcy figured this was an agent. Speaking of agents...

"Are you two my soulmates or was that just a weird fever dream?" Darcy looked between the two people, one man and one woman, as smiles bloomed on their faces. Darcy really hoped they were her soulmates; they were beautiful. And they looked so kind. 

"We're yours and you're ours," The man said with a smile. His voice sent tingles through Darcy's entire body.   
"But you need to sleep some more, skatt," The woman said with an echoing smile. "Get healthy."

"Okay," Darcy said with a smile of her own. There was a lot of smiling going on, is what she's trying to convey. "You look tired too. Get some sleep, please?" 

"I'll make sure of it," A blonde man in the background said with a grin. He was almost as tall as Thor.   
"Thanks," Darcy said, taking a final look at her soulmates - who were looking at her like they wanted to kidnap her and never let her out of sight, by the way - and finally fell asleep. 

(Bucky and Nat didn't sleep properly until Darcy was in their bed, tucked safely between them.)

 


	14. Sometimes (Darcy Lewis, Rape Recovery)

Darcy Lewis  
Rape Recovery

\---  
Sometimes she can't breathe. It's okay, she has to remind herself, it's just your system trying to protect itself. 

It's okay. 

It's not, though. Some of the time it is. 

Some of the time her lungs work and she can hear someone else say her name and doesn't want to rip their tongue with something pointy and hot as fire.  
Sometimes she wears skirts just because she wants to and sometimes she can wear Converse without feeling fourteen and just realising she'll never be able to trust again. 

But sometimes she picks up a metal knife and she can't feel the weight of it in her hand - no, it's on her neck, cutting into her fragile skin, it's on her thighs, marking her up, it's on her stomach, making sure she'll never forget anything.   
Sometimes she looks at herself in the mirror, at scars so faded you can't see them without searching, and she has to throw up. Because she was young and unafraid, and she paid the price. She didn't even want to buy it; it was the last thing she ever fucking wanted. 

Sometimes she's in a bar and she can politely at someone asking to buy her a drink, and say, "Sorry, no thanks,"   
But some of the time it takes everything she has not to rip their eyes of their sockets because they stare at her in a way no one has ever been allowed to stare at her, in a way that feels too much like them. 

Them. The three boys - men - Devils that ruined her.

For a while at least. 

She's fine now. Most of the time. But sometimes she can't breathe. And that's okay. 

 

 


	15. Got Buns, Hun (Darcy Lewis & Natasha Romanova, Nicki Minaj, Darcy Lewis; Natasha Romanova; Steve Rogers; Nick Fury)

Darcy Lewis & Natasha Romanova  
Nicki Minaj  
Darcy Lewis; Natasha Romanova; Steve Rogers; Nick Fury

\---   
"I know what you're doing." Natasha said easily as she slid into the chair beside Darcy, as if she hadn't just scared the life out of the intern-turned-friend.   
"And what's that?" Darcy asked once she was done choking on the piece of chicken she was trying to eat, setting a pair of watery eyes on Natasha. Pepper was a bitch when it didn't end up where it should. 

"You're insisting on playing sexually loaded songs when you're being trained by Steve, causing him to be too embarrassed to really train you."  
Darcy pursed her lips, wondering how to play this. "It's not my fault he can't handle Nicki Minaj and her beautifully articulated messages."

"No," Natasha agreed, "But I doubt Director Firy will be pleased to hear that the very expensive surround system _you_  insisted he had to install in the gym for _team spirit_  is being used for the praise of, quote, 'fat asses'."   
"Fine. Then I'll sue him for sexism in the workplace." Darcy rose from the chair and went to rinse off her plate, "It won't be too hard to spin."

"We just want you to be safe, Darcy." She looked back at that, knowing she'd caved already when she met Natasha's earnest face. It was even worse than _Steve's_! "Why won't you let us teach you how to stay safe?"   
"All right, fine!" Darcy groaned, "I'll stop playing sexually provocative songs in the gym. But! Steve will be coming to a Minaj concert with me. And Fury will pay for it."

"Deal."   
"And I want to be there when you tell them this."  
"Of course," Natasha smiled, looking like the cat who caught the Canary. 

 


	16. Pretty Fly for a White Guy (Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury, Swearing; Non-Dramatic Assasination Attempt; Marital Dispute Over Personal Bodyguards; Nick Fury Has a Heart)

Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury  
Darcy Lewis; Nick Fury; Natasha Romanova; Tony Stark; Bucky Barnes; Phil Coulson; Brock Rumlow; Sharon Carter; Melinda May  
Swearing; Non-Dramatic Assasination Attempt; Marital Dispute Over Personal Bodyguards; Nick Fury Has a Heart

 

\---  
"Can I get Darcy Lewis, please? This is her husband."  
"Yes, of course. Have a nice day!"  
"You too," Nick answered, looking over the screens in front of him as he listened to the beeps coming from the speaker. 

Everyone else in the room, and there were a lot of them, were discreetly setting themselves up so they could listen in on his conversation, and Nick couldn't even say he blamed them. He knew he didn't exactly seem like a happily married man. He was though. 

"Hey, this is Darcy, please make it quick as there is a baby about to be pushed out of a poor woman's vaginal canal." A chirpy voice answered the phone, and everyone did a double-take at how young she sounded. Everyone except Phil, that is. He was the best man, after all. 

"Honey, in a few minutes a lot of people are going to do their best to kill you, meaning several federal agents will descend onto the hospital to keep you safe. Do you mind?"    
There was beat of silence, and then they could hear a tired sigh over the phone. "Fine, whatever. But they're not allowed to take me anywhere before this baby is ou- Hey, Kira, you're doing great, sweetheart," 

There was a loud scream in the background, the noise only covered by Darcy's reassurances. "Listen, just give me a big push, come on. That's it, good! Now, I just need a small push."

There was a sound of metal meeting metal as she put her phone down, and then there was swearing. A lot of it.   
"You stupid fucking cunt, if you ever get me pregnant again I will skin you alive, you fucking hear me?" A hoarse voice screamed, just as every male anus in the room tightened, and then pulled in on itself. 

"Robert, listen to me," Darcy said, "She's only saying this because she trusts you. She trusts you to still love her even after she's treated you like this, and that's something to be proud of. Besides, she's in a lot of pain - much more pain than you can even dream of finding yourself in. Ever. So don't cry, and give your wife some ice chips." 

"We're in position," Black Widow said over the radio, the live feed from a camera on her scrubs starting. They could see a woman, no more than 26, possibly younger, standing behind another woman, this one heavily pregnant, as a man, extremely terrified by the looks of it, watched. He looked like he'd seen things. _Things_.   
"Ah, nurse Romanova. You must be the new student!" The woman - Darcy -  said, again with that cheerful voice. "You look so much like Black Widow! Isn't that funny?"

"Yes, very funny," Natasha answered, "is there any-"  
"All right, Kira," Darcy interrupted, waving Natasha to stand somewhere behind her, "Take a deep breath for me. And... Push!" 

"Oh, fuck!" Kira groaned, and in a reflection they could all see her strained face. Natasha had been in many hairy situations in her life, many of them very painful, but she didn't think it'd compare to this. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to find out. 

Nick and the rest of the agents - of which the Avengers had now joined because Tony Stark was insatiable and James Barnes refused to believe Fury had managed to, quote, 'pull a pinup', un-quote - listened intently to everything going on the room, searching for any sign that something was wrong.

"Awh, look at this little princess!" They heard, just before the little one proved their lungs were working, "You have been making your mom's life very difficult for the last months, haven't you? Yes, you have!"

Natasha watched as Darcy handled the baby and the mother expertly; helping the father cut the cord and moving the mother into a more comfortable position. She talked softly with the mother for a few moments while the new father cried over their new daughter, before coming to stand next to Natasha. 

"So, are you actually a trained nurse or was that just bullshit my husband made up?" She asked as she picked up the phone, knowing full well that everyone was listening. Of course, she didn't that 'everyone' included the Earth's Mightiest Heroes, or whatever, but Natasha didn't think she'd care if she'd known. She also decided she liked this girl. 

"I'm actually trained," Natasha smiled.  
"In what year?" Darcy asked as she filled out some forms. The girl had settled a little bit, sleeping on her mother's chest. 

"Not sure," Natasha admitted with her trademark smirk, making Darcy chuckle.   
"Fair enough," She smiled, signed the papers with a flourish and then handed them to her 'student'. "Deliver the placenta, stitch her up, and then check the baby. You know what to do, what to look for?" 

"Yes, ma'am,"   
"If you're insisting on being formal, it's Dr." Darcy smiled. "But I prefer Darcy," And with a goodbye to Kira and Robert, she left them in the care of Natasha. 

"Nurse Romanova applied to this position two weeks ago, Nick," Darcy said into the phone as she closed the door softly behind her.   
In a room several miles away, the body of Director Fury went still. Absolutely, completely still. Coulson laughed on the inside.   
"Did she?" Fury asked calmly, and the huff he got in response could be heard three floors above. 

"I'm pretty sure, Nick. Do you know how I know this? Because I reviewed her CV," Fury winced at that, making making Tony Stark grin like a madman. He'd managed to stay impressively quiet so far, but it was only a matter of time now. 

"It was impressive, I'll give her that. But judging by the fact that you haven't been acting paranoid for the past two weeks..."   
"Damnit," He whispered, and Stark's eyes lit up in glee. Seriously, he could pass for Loki's more evil twin. 

"And since you know I'm not cheating on you, I'm guessing you were planning on giving me a security detail _without_  telling me, right?"   
"Babe, there are literally three snipers on a rooftop less than a hundred meters from you. Did I make the wrong decision?" Most people would say the voice he was using was authoritative. Phil would say it was pleading. 

"But you didn't tell me, though, did you?"   
"Can we do this later? I don't want Tony Stark to listen in on you yelling at me."

"Yeah, but I want to!" Stark said, "Please, Dr. Lewis, be my guest, yell at Fury!"  
"Shut it, Stark," The Fury's said at the same time, causing Stark's world to shut down for a few seconds. Jarvis didn't worry; sometimes Sir needed a few moments to regroup. Besides, Colonel Rhodes was only a few minutes out by suit, should the situation worsen. 

"Anyway," Darcy continued, "Yes. We can talk about this later - like at my aunt's dinner this Saturday."  
"God, please, no." This time _everyone_  would describe his voice as pleading. They were also certain somebody should be transcribing this, because this was definitely a Biblical event. 

"Mhm. And we're bringing the desert, and you know Elizabeth will love you for that,"   
"She pinches my fucking cheeks, Darcy." For the record; yes, he had given up on ever regaining his coworkers respect ever again. Stark cackled. He shut up pretty quickly at the look Fury sent him. Okay, so it wasn't _impossible_  to regain respect. Good to know. 

"I know," Darcy sighed, "It's awesome."  
"I'm responsible for the sniper pointing a gun at your head and more than twice your age - your family should _not_  be this accepting of me." Fury muttered, "It's ridiculous." 

"Oh, please. Enough with the guilt, we both know the sniper was gone within 30 seconds of the first sighting. And I'm pretty sure my aunt is trying to seduce you, by the way."

"By pinching his cheeks?" Phil asked, because this conversation was taking a weird turn and he needed to remind everyone that it wasn't a hallucination.   
"You've met her, Phil."  
"All right, fair point," Phil conceded. 

"Why couldn't you have married that Ian guy instead?" Nick muttered, furiously punching the keyboard to convey new orders because the team sent to take his wife was actually competent.   
"And leave Phil with a broken-hearted Nick Fury at his hands?" Darcy snorted, "Bitch, please."  
"I don't get broken-hearted."  
"Right, sorry. I forgot, is it the grenades or the machine guns who protects you from that?" 

Nick smiled, and the younger agents realised with an inwardly gasp that he had real teeth, and that he wasn't just the human vessel for a black hole consisting of all the badass-ness humans were capable of producing.   
"The grenades." He answered, watching intently as Agent 13, Rumlow and May charged at a group of assailants. Watching them drop one by one was extremely satisfying. It was even better when they dropped because of an arrow to their heart. Knee. Wherever. 

"Yes, of course. The machine guns protected you from heart _attacks_ , sorry. My bad,"   
"Happens to the best of us Darcy," Nick said sweetly - or at least, as sweetly as he could. Which, by the way, was way too sweetly for Barnes. 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just buy icing sugar and baking soda on the way home, would you?" Nick watched as three different screens filmed Darcy's grin. "And I married you instead of Ian because white guys can't make leather coats look good. "

 


	17. Like a House on Fire (Darcy Lewis/Nick Fury, Darcy Lewis; Nick Fury; Maria Hill; Phil Coulson; Steve Rogers)

 "Yes, sir." Steve said to Coulson, just before the door behind them opened and a short woman wearing what seemed to be nothing but an oversized football jersey walked in, straight past them. 

Steve was too busy watching as the woman -early twenties, not an agent, non-combatant - seemed to search for someone, apparently Deputy Hill, to notice Director Fury coming to stand next to him. 

"You!" She said loudly, drawing the attention of the people who weren't already watching her. Considering that they were just outside medical after a particular bloody fight, that number wasn't low. "You're Hill, right? Maria? My husband said to find you if he's hurt." 

Hill looked puzzled - first time Steve had ever seen that - but composed herself quickly. "Cesare loves who?" If Hill needed code words to assure herself that this was the spouse and not a plant, she was obviously married to someone high up - but it wasn't exactly like SHIELD was run by twenty-year-olds. 

"Lucrezia." She answered quickly.   
"He's right behind you." Hill answered, and Steve stupidly looked down at himself for a second because _he_  was right behind the woman, before looking to his left and finding a sheepish Director Fury. Because that was a thing that existed, apparently. 

The woman - he really needed to learn her name - turned around quickly, her brown hair reminding him of an old-fashioned fan as she moved. 

"They told me you were shot!" She said loudly, as she walked towards Fury, and just for the record, Steve was not the only one watching this with rapt attention. He was pretty sure Banner was filming this for Stark. He was also pretty sure Hill was filming this for herself. You know, for the days when Fury's just a little bit more of a bastard than usual. "Why aren't you in a bed somewhere?"

"I'm fine, really." Fury said, even going as far to hold up his hands, and Steve kind of wanted to film this too.   
"The hell you're not, I can see that you aren't breathing properly!" 

He wasn't? Steve tried to look closer, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Then again; Fury was the most superspy to ever superspy. 

"I was _grazed_." He tried to brush it off, which Steve could have told you wouldn't have worked. Bucky Barnes was his best friend, and an overprotective one at that. 

"Bullshit." She said, and everyone sort of held their breath because _people didn't talk back to Fury unless it was life or death because more likely than not, following his orders was best for everyone involved._  Then again, this was his wife. Apparently. "Did you get released? Did a doctor clear you to go?" 

Maybe they met while she was interrogating the most dangerous serial killer in the world, because she was the only one who could make him crack? Steve found that explanation believable. Everyone else did too, by the way. 

"I-" Fury was officially _hesitating_. Okay.   
The woman closed her eyes, and Steve recognised that look. It was the _I'm praying for patience because you're an idiot who picks fights and doesn't let me make sure you don't die_. She and Bucky would have gotten along _great_. 

"Is there anyone here who is a doctor?" She asked room with a tight voice. Yeah, Fury was definitely in trouble.   
"There's no nee-"   
"I am!" Dr. Cho said, pushing her way through the bystanders, interrupting Fury with glee.   
"Good." The woman smiled at Cho, "Will you make sure my husband doesn't die from internal bleeding? Or _stubbornness_?" 

"I'm fine! I'm not eve-" Fury protested, but everyone could tell it was far fetched. He'd obviously married the only person in the world with a stronger will than himself. 

"Look," The woman cut him off, making Fury roll his eyes. Steve would roll his eyes too if he'd been interrupted three times in a row, but he didn't really think his input was needed here. "The more you protest, the longer it will take before you get the celebratory 'thank god you're not dead blowjob'. Get it?" 

He seemed to consider this as everyone else blushed, especially Coulson. Maybe Fury wasn't in _that_  much trouble. "I guess there's no arguing with that."

"No." The woman - what the hell is her name? - agreed, "And I'm really not in the mood for you to try either. Not only was I sure you were bleeding out on a fucking operation table, I had to run down the stairs without a fucking bra on."

Fury winced at that, "Sorry."  
"Yeah," The woman scoffed as she followed Fury through the doors to medical, "I guess this wasn't really our day, was it?" 

Fury didn't say anything to that, but the woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Coulson. "Oh, iPod thief?" 

"Yes?" Coulson was uncertain. This was new. Also, iPod thief? There was definitely a story there. 

"I’m pregnant, and you’re the godfather. Nick’s insisting. I think he feels bad about eloping without letting you know. And you’re his BFF and all that.”

“Okay.” Coulson smiled, having figured out it was best to just do as she says. “Congratulations.”  
"Tell me that when the morning sickness ends." 

And then she left the room, and Steve was left wondering what happened and could he maybe be her new best friend? Pretty please?


	18. Together (Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova; Pre-Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova/Bucky Barnes; Hydra)

They meet at the worst possible time. In-between orders and kill and torture and brainwashing in the most literal sense of the word, they fall together in a mess of repressed fear and bruising touches. 

They find a way to survive, depending on each other as they move around from corridor to corridor, sneaking past security who will never be able to catch them. 

They meet whenever they can, finding their homes in each other and staying there for as long as they can. 

5 minutes  
15 minutes  
1 hour   
15 hours

They take what they can get, make the most of it. Laughing kisses as they forget about reality, gentle touches as they make up for the day's trials. 

They piece themselves together in the safety of each other, tell their darkest secrets and how they can be killed in the comfort. 

They breathe and kill and live in sync, but no one knows.  Nobody knows of the plans of escape, formed while bandaging stab wounds delivered by their handlers and holding each other as they breathe through the nausea that follows a broken bone. Or two. Or twenty. 

They obey and kill like nothing has changed, like there isn't something burning inside them, waiting for the right time to be set free. 

"The Asset hasn't been seen for a few days, disappeared somewhere in Brooklyn." 

They listen as the masters grow more desperate every day, and then they strike. Fast and brutal, but still quietly - they way only they know. 

They can hear the screams of pain as they burn in the flames, and as they look at the wreck they left behind, a man with a silver arm comes to stand next to them. 

"Mind if I come with you?" 


	19. Tampon (Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton; Kidnapping, Menstruation)

“Is being able to go on a tampon run  _without_  Hydra kidnapping me too much to ask? Because I don’t think so, but clearly,” Darcy huffed as she stood from the sad excuse for a floor her captors had put her on, and met the eyes of a very befuddled man, “ _Someone_  disagrees with me.“ 

"Uhm.” He said, and shook his head uncertainly. “Personally, I feel like every vagina owner should be allowed to do what needs to be done in order to, eh,  _alleviate_  the pain of blood and tissue escaping their vaginal canal?” 

Two people had come into the room sometime during his answer, and Darcy just now recognised them to be Captain America and Tony Stark. They looked confused, but not surprised. 

“So.” Darcy smiled, and then winced when it pulled on her split lip. “You’re the reason I didn’t immediately assume I was dying when I woke up in a pool of my own blood at the tender age of ten.” 

“Yes.” He nodded decisively. “I’m Clint. Barton. Hawkeye.” He smiled uncertainly, but Darcy found it adorable. “You can call me whatever you want.” 

“Cool. I’m Darcy.” They nodded dumbly at each other before Tony Stark - !!! - spoke up. “So you have a very descriptive explanation of the process of menstruation somewhere on your body.” 

Darcy nodded, this time at Stark, and then looked back at Clint. Her soulmate. Wow. “But unless you have a spacious shower or a towel you care very little for, you won’t discover where for about three to four business days.” 

“I have big shower.” Clint grinned, and though it was a very cocky grin, it was a very good look on him. “I also have very strong arms. It’s why I’m an Avenger. A superhero.” 

“Yes, I can see…” Darcy looked at his (bulging, how the fuck?) biceps for a few seconds, and then she heard a throat clearing from somewhere beside her. 

“Would you let someone examine your head wounds before you partake in any, uhm,  _strenuous_  activity?”   
So  _that’s_  what Captain America sounded like. 

“Yeah, but I think I’ll call it a day after that…” Darcy inched her way toward the exit, sidestepping a national treasure on her way, “I mean, getting kidnapped is one thing, but having the earths mightiest heroes know all about my menstrual cycle is gonna take a few days to, you know…” Darcy crashed into a cement wall as she walked backwards out of her cell. Thor - Odinson!!! - was coming towards them, and looked like he wanted to help her a little bit. “Suppress.” 

“But you don’t mind if I use my super secret spy-ways to track down your number and then call you?” Clint asked, his eyes following her on her way out. 

“No! No, not at all!” Darcy squeaked, “Thanks for un-kidnapping me, have a nice day!”  


	20. Bourne (Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova; Involuuntary cesarian section; TRIGGER WARNING; DO NOT READ IF SQUEAMISH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning; involuntary cesarian section, please read with care if you think that might be a squeak or trigger.
> 
> For comparison; it's less graphic than what happened to Violet in Private Practice.

Bourne  
Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanova   
Involuntary Cesarian Section;  ** _Don’t read if you’re squeamish_**

 

Darcy wakes up to the frantic voice of her wife, the world spinning too fast and too slow at the same time. 

Natasha looks like a mess, with tears streaming down her face and her normally flawless make up smudged around in a mixture of black and pink.   


"Darcy, Darcy! Darcy, I need you to talk to me,  _please_!" Natasha cries, and Darcy's brain stops working for a few seconds. Natasha doesn't cry. Natasha trembles with anger, and screams of frustration and smiles with joy. But she doesn't cry. Not ever. Not until now. 

"Nat-" Darcy tries to say her name, tries to calm her down, tries to grab her hand and ground her like she had a bad dream, but she can't. Her body won't cooperate and she thinks the taste of copper in her mouth is why she can't get a word out. 

"Darcy, listen. They took them. They took them, and I need to find them, but I can't leave you, and I don't know what to do!" Natasha says frantically, her voice growing more unsteady with every word. 

"Wha- who did-?" There were tears silently falling from Darcy's eyes too, because something was  _wrong_  and she didn't know  _what_. 

"The twins!" Natasha choked, her hands moving frantically over her face to check for injuries, even though Natasha’s eyes couldn't see anything. Darcy thought there might be someone in her peripheral, but she wasn't sure. If there was, there's no way it could be more important than her wife having a nervous breakdown in from of her while she couldn't  _move her fucking body, what is going on?!_  "Hydra took them!" 

Darcy looked at her wife, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "The twi- Nat, they aren't even born yet." Darcy smiled, an uncertain thing that made Natasha's heart ache more than it already did. "Nat?" Darcy asked.   
  
Her stomach was hurting. A lot. Like someone opened it with a knife and pulled her children out of it. "Natasha..." Darcy said, her eyes going wider and her breath coming quicker. 

For the past six weeks she'd been able to see her stomach no matter how her head was turned. She didn't see it now. 

"Tell me what to do, please!" Nat pleaded, leaning down so Darcy could smell the mixture of blood and apple scented perfume on her skin, could see her green irises surrounded by bloodshot white. 

"Go find them," Darcy said as her body began to shake. She could her someone shouting in the background("She's going into shock, when are the paramedics getting here?"), but all she could focus on was the humming in her ear and the way Natasha pulled herself together - until it wasn't her sweet wife who loved Parmesan cheese and Matt Damon movies sitting there, it was the Black Widow. It was just as terrifying as it was impressive to watch, but Darcy wished she’d never seen it. 

"I'll find them for you," Widow said as she rose to her feet, and then stilled. " _Us_." 

 


End file.
